Painting by The Numbers

"You take lots of photos to reference for the paintings, right?"

"Sure. Dozens, at least."

He took a deep breath. "I've never asked, but if you take any pictures of the girls for reference, I'd love copies. I don't want to put you in an awkward position. If Nicholas doesn't want you sharing them, I totally understand. I just... They are my granddaughters."

I shrugged. "He hasn't said anything about it, so I don't see an issue. I'll drop a bunch in Google Drive and send you a link. Is this really, I don't know, a thing? Mom sees them all the time and has pictures from Cat."

"I see the photos she leaves lying around, but everything involving Nick is awkward so I don't press."

"Okay. If he doesn't say anything about it, I'm fine. I'll send you the link tonight."

Going back inside, I changed into some painting clothes and got back to work. The smell of paint got my heart pumping until I slid into the zone. Once there, I didn't recognize smells, temperature, hunger, or time.

Calvin was clothed in the painting, instead of wearing his singlet. I was considering using the gym as a background and having the flags of the US and Croatia hanging from the rafters. I liked the concept. It humanized him and gave people a different perspective than the typical athletic pose I usually referred to as the "moment of glory scene."

I wasn't sure if I was just indulging myself. After you paint enough heroic depictions, you want to take a break and explore a bit.

Any semblance of professionalism would dictate that I speak to the client to get their opinion. Unfortunately, the client was the Olympic Committee and reaching out to them would probably mean speaking to John.

Putting both Calvin and John out of my mind, I spent most of the rest of the day working on roughing out images of Jessica Killington. Of the three paintings they hired me for, hers should have been the easiest. There was no need to guess what they were looking for in Jessica's painting.

I had no idea if track and field had any sex appeal before Jessica, but it certainly did when she stepped onto the grass. The woman was stunning, and it seemed effortless. There were popular YouTube channels dedicated to her, and she always topped the lists of the most attractive athletes.

Her... Okay, I had no idea what they called the outfit or uniform for people in track and field, but whatever it was, hers looked painted on. The Olympic Committee and the University had sent me endless photos for research. Seventy-five percent of the images of Calvin were of him on the mats, or working out. The rest were of him in class or around campus. The same was true for Tom McNally, an exceptional swimmer.

All of the photos of Jessica, all of them, were of her smiling in a uniform that should have been tight enough to cut off circulation. The thing is, I made no judgments. Maybe that's what she wanted, maybe it wasn't. Either way, I was going to do my best to present her as a person, an actual human being instead of an objectified pinup..

If they wanted something else, they gave the job to the wrong person. One of my closest friends in the world was Angie, my brother's ex-fiancée. She was a supermodel when they started dating, and she was the sort of person who stops conversations as soon as she walked through the door. She was also brilliant, kind, professional and one of the least affected people I knew.

I was determined to treat Jessica as I would Angie. I wasn't going to hide her beauty, but it wasn't all that I was going to show.

Once again, I got lost in my work. The phone must've rang at least three times before the noise soaked into my consciousness. My hand followed the sound as my eyes kept searching the sketch for what I knew wasn't there. It was that humanizing element, and I knew it was going to haunt me until I found it.

Finding the phone, I grabbed it, still distracted. "Yeah? Hello?"

"Ronnie? Are you all right?"

It was Calvin. Taking a deep breath, I peeled my eyes from the image and realized it was dark outside. My voice was all scratchy.

"Fine. I was just... Sorry, I was working and got a little lost. Could you hold on a second?" I put him on speaker. "Hey, I'm gonna get something to drink. What's going on?"

I grabbed a cup and a pitcher of water from the fridge and drank while I was listening.

"I was doing some research and found a video of me, Tom, and Jessica that the university used when they first scouted us. It was taken by their own recruiters, so it's not publicly available. I'm free tomorrow from one to four. I was able to reserve the athletic department's backup video room. Are you free?"

All I wanted to do was get back to the image I was working on, but I knew that pull would fade.

"Um, yeah. That would be wonderful. Thank you, Calvin. I appreciate the help."

He gave me a small laugh. "They pay me to work for the athletic department. I know it's a comfortable job, and it's better than flipping burgers, but the only reason I have the job is they wanted me to come here. Finding video for you is much better than cleaning up a locker room or stacking loose weights. Okay, I'll see you at one. Don't have lunch."

When we hung up, I drank some more water and ate a banana. I hoped he wasn't buying lunch to make up for me buying McDonald's.

I showed up half an hour early and sat in my car for fifteen minutes. Lying to myself, I didn't admit that it was because I didn't want to seem overeager to see Calvin. The university had an impressive gym and facility. There was a statue of Atlas in the front, by the main doors. Calvin met me there and waved with a grin as I approached.

When I was close, his grin turned into a frown. "Are you all right? You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"What? No I'm--"

Calvin interrupted me. "Sorry, I was talking to Atlas."

Chuckling, I rolled my eyes and groaned. "That was horrible."

Looking away from me, he shrugged. "Sorry, it's the best I had."

"Don't apologize." I lightly shoved his shoulder. I would have had better luck shoving the statue. Calvin was as solid as marble. "Ask my brother and he'll tell you that bad jokes are usually my department."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely. When he first met my aunt, she had to keep translating my jokes for him."

He was smiling as he pulled open the door for me.

"What?" I asked.

He kept smiling. "Nothing. I just like learning new things about you."

I stopped walking and looked at him while running my tongue along the inside of my lower teeth. Someone almost bumped into me from behind, and I started walking again.

"That's the corniest line I've ever heard."

It wasn't. It was actually pretty good.

When we got to the video room, I was impressed. I guess I was expecting a rundown, dingy room with technology one step away from VHS tapes. Instead, it was clean, well lit, had monitors everywhere and stadium seating. Calvin had two comfortable seats waiting for us upfront and a six-foot folding table in front of our chairs.

"Grab a seat. I'll be back in a minute."

If I'm anywhere that's even slightly related to work, I carry my courier bag instead of a purse. Sitting down, I pulled out my phone and iPad.

"Hey," I called out. "Who uses this room?"

"It's usually overflow for the football team."

That figured. Maybe it was because Nicky competed in a sport without teams, but I wasn't the biggest fan of sports that dominated academics at universities. I got it. It wasn't some great mystery. Football teams and basketball teams drove donations. If the lion's share of that money didn't go back to the star teams, the money dried up. Still, it was annoying.

I heard a ding, and Calvin walked over with some dishes that smelled amazing.

"Croatian. If you don't like it, don't eat it. I won't be offended." He walked away again and was soon back with water and some dessert that looked like fried dough. "Fritule. Save it for last."

Sitting down, he used the remote to turn on one of the screens. It was Nicky on a skateboard. He couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen. It was a series of videos from local television stations talking about the hometown kid who was going pro. Staring at the screen, I covered my mouth and just watched. He was a baby. I finally dropped my hand and looked away when Calvin tapped my arm with the end of a fork and handed me a paper plate.

I took both and shook my head in amazement. "He was just a kid. I wasn't even in high school when I was that age, and he was out there competing with adults. Where did you find this?"

"One of the coaches had it from years ago. I searched our database for your last name to see if you had any outstanding requests. This popped up."

We sat there watching the rest of Nicky's video and then what they had on the three athletes while we enjoyed the food. I've never had a Croatian meal, but everything was delicious. When I tried the desert, I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat.

"How has this not been a part of my life? What's in here?"

"Rum soaked raisins. Some lemon zest in the dough."

"Calvin, did you make all of this?"

"No, of course not. I used GrubHub to order it from Croatia. Delivery was a little steep, but it was worth it."

"Shut up. Seriously? You made all of this?"

"Pretty much. I had some help."

"Everything was amazing. Thank you."

Okay, things were picking up steam. He was definitely into me, and I couldn't deny the attraction. The ethical questions remained. As he walked me back to my car, I was considering getting his portrait done first, so there would be no professional conflict. We could just wait until I finished and then see where we stood.

Unfortunately, I didn't want to wait.

Twenty minutes after I left the university, I was in the parking lot behind Aunt Cat's store. I went through the back door and passed hundreds of truffles on my way to the front. The line at the counter was almost out the door and the phone kept ringing and ringing.

An indecisive middle-aged woman kept pointing at various truffles and pieces of chocolate then changing her mind, having them put back and choosing something else. When Cat saw me, she put her hands over heart, raised her eyebrows and mouthed, "Thank you." I grabbed the phone.

"Cat's Chocolate Boutique, how may I help you?"

"Um, this is Will. I ordered the candy and stuff when I came in about the ad in the yearbook? You, um, got the quarter page ad? Can I add something to the order? I heard that girls really like peanut butter cups. Do you guys make them?"

"This is the... high school yearbook?"

"Middle school."

I smiled. "Of course. Middle school. You're in luck, Will. Not only does Cat make the best peanut butter cups in Ohio, but I can assure you that all the cute girls love them."

He sounded excited as he replied. "How much are they?"

"Will, have you paid for what you already ordered?"

"Yeah, when I was in there talking with the lady who owns the place."

I grabbed a pen and pad off the counter. "May I ask how much money you have left?"

"About thirty dollars."

"Well, you're in luck. We're having a sale, four for five dollars. And when you get here, tell Cat that her niece wants to buy an ad for her studio."

When I got off the phone with Will, I stepped up to the counter and started helping customers. We knocked the line down pretty quickly, and I told Cat about the steep discount on peanut butter cups.

She shook her head in mock frustration. "You're going to give away all my profits."

"Maybe, but it balances out with the free labor. Listen, can we talk about something? Just between the two of us?"

Mom had always said that Cat and I were more like sisters than aunt and niece.

"Of course. What's up?"

"You, uh, don't care who I share pictures of the girls with, right? I mean, I'm not talking strangers or putting them online or anything."

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at me before answering. "George?"

I took in a breath. "Yeah, my dad."

"We have such a strange family. Okay, so here's how I look at it. He's their grandfather, and weirdly their uncle. We almost sound like hillbillies. Share whatever photos you'd like, but just know that if Nick says anything, it stops. Immediately. He hasn't mentioned it. He never actually talks about George. I know he's your dad, but I'll never side with him against Nick. The first time your brother objects, it's done."

"Absolutely. And thanks."

"I appreciate your asking, Ronnie. You're a good kid. A little too generous with peanut butter cups, but a good kid."

I stayed for a while, and we talked about everything. Everything but what I couldn't stop thinking about. Calvin and John.

I left the chocolate shop happy. A balsa-wood airplane from a cheap kit was on the ground next to my car. Seeing a kid searching the parking lot, I picked it up with a smile and tossed it his way. Being happy is something that you usually recognize in retrospect. Not that day. Getting in the car, I said, "Screw it," and put the top down. It might have been a bit too cold, but I was going to enjoy the wind in my hair.

Stopping at a red light, I saw Calvin sitting on a bench at the bus stop while holding a large bag. I lowered my voice an octave or two.

"Hey, mister, how do I get to the highway?"

He looked over, recognized me, smiled and shook his head. I pulled over to the side of the road and Calvin walked over.

"Where are you taking the bus?"

He lifted the bag. "Returning the dishes to my aunt."

I was going to head home, open the windows and start painting before going over to my brothers. I could skip the painting. "How far does she live from here?"

"By bus? About ninety minutes. By car? About half an hour."

"Hop in. Put the bag in the back."

We had been driving for a while and he was giving me directions when a Britney Spears song came on the radio. Calvin was looking out the window and didn't seem to realize what he was doing, but he sang along softly. If I said that he was not a talented singer, it would be extremely charitable. My smile grew wider, and I was glad I had put down the roof and that the windows were down. I could sadistically share his verbal assault on music with the world.

He looked over and noticed that when I wasn't watching the road, I was staring at him with my goofy smile.

"What?"

"Did you even notice that you were singing along?"

He blushed, and it was delicious.

"Sometimes I do not notice. She was very popular in Croatia and my sisters had her posters. It was a thing, you understand? Like, they would sing into pretend microphones. They would use hair brushes or ladles. It was fun. Children things. You understand. It was something I had with them. Memories."

I wasn't sure what was fair game and what wasn't. There was clearly a story. I had no idea why he was here, and his sisters weren't. I left it alone.

"Don't worry. It's adorable, Calvin. You sing like an angel."

"I know what I sing like."

I laughed. "Well, maybe a fallen angel. The last thing I expected was the big bad wrestler singing along to Britney Spears in my car."

We hopped on the highway for two exits and got off in a pocket of suburbia. His aunt and uncle had a beautiful little home near an elementary school. The neighborhood was filled with kids, the sun was shining and there was a light breeze. I had to use the bathroom, but didn't want to go in. It felt way too much like a "meet the mom" opportunity, and there was no way I was ready for that. We hadn't even gone out yet, regardless of how much I wished that we had.

"Um, are your aunt and uncle home?"

"No, he doesn't get home until seven and she is out shopping. I'll load the dishwasher, stay for dinner and they'll give me a ride back."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Would it be alright if I use their bathroom?"

"Of course."

As we walked up to the door, he told me about some photos his aunt had from when he first got to the United States. He opened the door with a key.

"Bathroom is down the hall, second door on the left. I'm going to grab the photo album from downstairs."

I'd had too much water while we watched the videos and then a Snapple while at the chocolate shop. I was ready to burst. As I washed my hands, I thought of Calvin singing along to ex-Disney stars and lightly laughed. When I stepped back into the hallway, I saw a woman carrying two paper bags walk into the kitchen. A moment later she walked backwards to the hallway and stared at me.

"Um, hi. I'm a friend of Calvin's?"

"I know no Calvin."

Her delivery was deadpan, but she was joking. Her accent was identical to his, just a bit thicker.

Calvin's voice floated up the stairs. "She is joking. Ignore her. Aunt Marta, be kind."

She looked to the door leading to the basement and then back to me. "Come, friend of Calvin's. Help me with groceries."

I followed her out to her car and saw seven children on the lawn. His aunt put on an exaggerated frown and her hands were folded into fists at her waist.

"Go away, you horrible children. He is not here, and your begging will get you no cookies."

The kids looked like they were between four and eight and when they heard the door to the house slam open, they all stared at Calvin.

He let out a bellow. "Do you not listen? Go! Run! I shall wrestle you to the ground and grind your bones to mush."

Heading out onto the front lawn, he walked stiff-legged like Frankenstein's monster. Laughing, the kids ran and jumped on him. He carried four or five and kept walking. Eventually he fell to the ground and mock-wrestled with the kids for a while.

"All right, all right, you win! I have to bring bags in, or she won't feed me. You know how mean she is."

As we walked back into the house with bags of food, she leaned towards me.

"The parents read the papers. They know he might go to the Olympics." She shrugged. "He is a big deal here. A celebrity. They all watched him grow up. His uncle and I don't let it go to his head. The adults leave him alone, but the children? They are children. He doesn't mind."

She grabbed a Tupperware filled with homemade cookies, and brought it out to the front.

"You children eat these cookies. They are very, very dry but better than you deserve. Then go away or I shall set my dog on you."

I heard one of the kids respond. "You don't have a dog."

"I shall buy a dog, train my dog, set my dog loose on you, and then return my dog to get my money back. How about that, Peter? Any more comments about my dog? Eat your very dry cookie."

She was delightfully bizarre. I wondered what his uncle was like.

I helped them unpack and put away the groceries.

"Aunt Marta, this is Ronnie. She works for the Olympic Committee. She'll be doing paintings of some of the athletes."

Glancing at me, she smiled before putting a gallon of milk in the fridge. "You are the one my nephew cooked for? You must be some painter. All these years he's lived with me and his uncle, he made me burnt toast and eggs on my birthday. You? You, he makes all the foods from home. What sort of name is Ronnie?"

"It's, um, short for Veronica."

"You are making a joke. It is short for nothing? Ronnie is your full first name?"

Confused, I shook my head. "No, it's short for Veronica. I just prefer Ronnie."

"Truly? Your parents must have seen it in you. Veronica is the patron saint of photographers." She held up her hand, her index finger and thumb less than an inch apart. "This close to painting. I imagine you take many photographs for your painting. Is that correct?"

This was all news to me. I nodded. She continued.

"I will make you a deal, Ronnie the Photographer, any of the photos you take of Calvin that you cannot sell and make money from, you send to me. In exchange, you stay tonight while I make spaghetti. Best spaghetti in Ohio. Not with that horrible chili on top. I learned in Italy. I show you how, you send me photographs. True Italian pasta."